


The Quality of Mercy

by CollingwoodGirl



Category: Miss Fisher's Murder Mysteries
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-11
Updated: 2014-10-11
Packaged: 2018-02-20 19:12:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,942
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2439737
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CollingwoodGirl/pseuds/CollingwoodGirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jack's exhausted. Phryne's frustrated. What's a lady to do?</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Quality of Mercy

**Author's Note:**

> This is a total PWP smut-fest. OK, smut and a little insight. But, mostly smut.

The coverlet rustled in the darkness of her bedroom. Phryne tossed and turned, unable to settle. Her mind swam with thoughts of their case. The past week had dragged on in a blur of too many suspects, not enough evidence and a number of unhelpful interviews.

By virtue of her nature, any case she took on became a living, breathing thing. And when it was a case shared with Jack, it intensified their connection - for good or ill. Most of the time, it worked to their advantage, infusing their relationship with fresh supplies of banter, adrenalin and admiration - as one or both of them got to show off a particularly good bit of sleuthing.

But this case was an exception. In fact, they had come perilously close to admitting defeat for the first time in their history together and they each carried the weight of their perceived failures. Jack thought he hadn't done a thorough enough job going over the little evidence they had and resolved to spend every spare moment pouring over his files. Phryne felt her instincts were betraying her and her annoyance was brimming over into all aspects of her life, even forcing Dot and Mr. Butler to seek refuge in the kitchen when she had stormed home unexpectedly yesterday afternoon in a towering temper.

She looked over at her lover who currently had his back turned toward her. It was an unusual repose and it was bothersome. Normally, Jack slept tight to her - either unable or unwilling to spend even an unconscious free moment apart. But, she supposed her restlessness was fraying his nerves and he was simply doing his best to get some much needed shut-eye. 

Jack had been true to his word and was burning the candle at both ends trying to solve this case, skipping meals and sleeping on the uncomfortable cot at City South - only coming to her bed to sleep for a few hours tonight at Phryne's insistence. At dawn, she had little doubt that he would be heading right back out to the station.

Crossing her arms over her chest as she laid there, she alternately stared between the ceiling and an expanse of Jack's back - exposed when her restlessness had twisted the covers. Shadows drew long around his lithe form and the ridges and hollows of his body practically begged her fingers to map them. They had only made love once before sheer exhaustion had gotten the better of him and Phryne soon felt another kind of frustration mounting within her. 

She tore her eyes from him but, it was too late. The all too familiar pulse was beating a tattoo in her core and she could feel her flesh swelling with need. She felt like she was going mad. Worse, even. She felt out of control. Moments ago, she was trying to keep afloat in the swift currents of case details and now she was threatening to drown in the undertow of the idea of Jack's mouth on her.

A huff of breath was expelled from her lips and she fidgeted again, the uncontrollable squirming of her hips shaking the bed.  
The response that came sounded irritated and did not soothe her, "Phryne? It's the middle of the night."  
"I can't sleep..." she complained, her voice thin and metallic.  
Utterly fatigued, he was in no mood for her games. "Try."  
"But, I need..." she whispered and reached out to trace the vertebra of his spine.  
His body recognized that tone before his brain did but, self-discipline prevailed. He edged just out of her reach and tried to soften the blow, "I'm sorry, Phryne. No."  
"Fine!" she spat, so it couldn't be misunderstood - she was anything but.

So what if he was tired? So what if he had to go work in a few hours? Since when did Jack Robinson refuse her? (Um, pretty much since forever - _Shut up brain!_ ) She knew she wasn't being fair but, at two in the morning and feeling reckless, childish behaviors will nearly always win out. She was committed to Jack - he was the only person allowed on her lips or in her bed. It simply wasn't an option for her to run out and pounce on the nearest hot-blooded male. But, there was a loophole. One which she did not regularly abuse but, _if ever there was a time…_

After all, Jack was clearly in need of reminding that what Phryne Fisher wanted, Phryne Fisher got. Worst case scenario? He would be the one left frustrated and she would get some much needed release - and she could cope with that. She untangled herself from the bedclothes and rolled over onto her stomach, stacking her arms beneath her and poising her hands between her thighs.

Her breathing became irregular as her able fingers stroked and her legs lengthened and stretched out, stiff. She faced away from him intentionally, but she could feel Jack listening with rapt attention. Soft sounds began to punctuate her breath, though Jack couldn't understand how he was able to anything hear over the sound of his own resolve crumbling around him.

He turned toward her and watched with darkened eyes as her neck arched at the pleasure of her own touch, her head lifting slightly off the mattress, causing strands of soft, dark hair to tumble around her. When she pressed down hard into her flexed palm, a moan bubbled at the back of her throat. Jack Robinson's self-control snapped. He was on her in seconds, covering her body with his and growling into her shoulder as she smiled wickedly, knowingly.

 _Dammit!_ She knew just how to push his buttons, draw him out, manipulate him to her own advantage. His desire for her could never truly be sated. And Jack felt both enthralled and a bit resentful of this fact. It was the latter, along with the late hour and the lack of sleep, that drew out the darker side of his temperament. If she was so determined to go against his wishes then, she would have to pay the price.

His teeth sunk down gently into the pale skin of her neck, wiping the smirk from her face, while his hand snaked underneath her in a bid to replace her own. They were locked in a struggle for dominance - each determined to teach the other a lesson - neither willing to give way. A strong hand pushed hers aside and she surprisingly acquiesced. But, as it turned out, it was only so she could thrust her slick fingers over her shoulder and into his panting mouth. He shuddered at the sensation of feeling her and tasting her at the same time and sucked harder, tracing her fingertips with his tongue, echoing his ministrations below.

He managed to make her cry out before she leveraged herself and pushed him off her, only to sit up and capture his mouth in a searing kiss. He sought to deepen it but she caught his jaw in her hands, threading her fingers around the base of his skull and in front of his ears, and was able to hold him back. His muffled moan vibrated between them before he finally succeeded in distracting her, nipples caught in his nimble fingers, and licked into her mouth.

Phryne may have had more experience than he but, one thing was for certain: Jack could kiss. Well. And where Phryne was concerned, he seemed to possess the uncanny ability to know exactly how to reel her in for more. Hands that had been keeping him at bay were suddenly dragging him closer.

His lips and teeth mashed against hers in a series of bruising kisses that left her breathless. He had pulled them both up to their knees and nestled one hand in her hair, holding her tight, while the other stroked teasingly along the length of her. Her skin erupted in gooseflesh and he swallowed her tiny whimpers as his agonizing touch feathered against the lusciously soft skin of her breast, down her abdomen, across her hip and the top of her thigh, ensuring every sensitive centimeter was awakened to his presence. 

Dipping his fingertips between her thighs he fondled the dark curls - tickling and arousing her in equal measure - before tracing the shape of her with the lightest of strokes, almost like a breath but, so much more and yet, not enough. He found she was thoroughly wet with desire and that made it easy to skate his fingertips across the delicate flesh until she was quivering in his arms.

He had wound her so tight, she thought she might break. Phryne broke away from his embrace and launched herself at his throat, desperately seeking a weak point to buy herself some time to recover. But, she was clumsy and trembling and feeling thoroughly wrong-footed. She was not used to losing this game. Her desperation so obvious, Jack was momentarily shocked. 

It wasn't that she wanted him (he wasn't dense enough to think that untrue), it was that she seemed to want him so much more in that moment than he wanted her. Truth be told, he usually felt that he was _the lucky one._ The realization that it was possible for him to have the upper hand filled him with a smug sexual confidence he had only ever witnessed in... well,... in Phryne.

He gave a soft laugh at this notion, which only inflamed her further. Looking down into her wild eyes, he knew he had won. The corners of his mouth twisted upward before planting another deep, dirty kiss to hers, pinning her arms to her sides in a tight embrace. He dragged his teeth along her jaw to her ear and whispered, "What do you want?" before tracing the helix with his tongue.

She was unable to answer and Jack held her firmly and continued to distract her with his mouth, enjoying the spell he had over her.

"Well, Miss Fisher?"

Though she pretended that it vexed her, she secretly loved it when Jack addressed her so formally in the bedroom. It reminded her of their beginnings, the long dance that led to this point and lent an almost forbidden quality to their lovemaking. Of course, he knew this. The same feeling was never lost on him when she let _Inspector_ fall from her lips like so many drops of honey.

"Y-your m-mouth," she begged. She had been thinking about it all night.  
Knowing exactly what she meant but, choosing to torment her further he replied thoughtfully, "Mmm. Well, now I'm awake, I thought I might just kiss you til dawn."  


His deep voice vibrated in her ear, lips causing all manner of chaos in her brain, and fingers were now skimming down the base of her spine, threatening to quest lower but, intentionally holding back. A great sob of frustration tore from her and she pushed him down onto the bed and hovered over him, looking positively feral.

"Not what you had in mind?" He asked in mock-innocence and idly wondered how often, if ever, she had been made to feel this way.  
"The quality of mercy is not strained," she quoted, her mind more agile now that Jack's lips weren't latched to her.

"Ah!" He was deeply impressed at her ability to call forth Shakespeare at a time like this but, wasn't about to show it.  
"But, you are not Portia. And I'm not inclined to show you an ounce of mercy at the moment." And, to prove his point, he lay perfectly still, not moving a finger to touch her, though his arched eyebrow told her she was getting warmer.

"P-please," she finally managed.  
He paused, pretending to consider this. "Asking nicely? Well, that's a start."

Jack tried not to look too relieved. She was gorgeous in her disarray and he wasn't sure how much longer he could have denied her. He leaned up and kissed her softly and felt a trace of tension melt from her body. Phryne made to lie back on the bed but, he stopped her at once. She looked like she might burst into tears and he steadied her by looking directly into her eyes.

"My way," he said firmly and kissed her again. He felt her stutter, shaking fingers dragging across his shoulders. When he felt the smallest of nods, he pulled away and positioned her the way he wanted. She was face down on the bed, arms crossed below her to pillow her head and lift her chest, knees bent under to support her backside in the air. 

Phryne's heart was beating out a steady, pounding rhythm as Jack's strong hands molded her body into shape. Briefly, she wondered if she ought not to wake him at three in the morning more often. Sure, they had played games before but, never had he been as raw as he was tonight. His confidence took her breath away. She had never wanted anyone more. And, that was saying something - since Phryne had never turned down an opportunity to engage in the sensual pleasures of life.

It was a rare thing for a man to make her want like this - much less the same man, over and over. Rene DuBois used to like to tease her but fear always accompanied her desire like a dark shadow. When she looked back now, she knew that she had sensed his sinister nature almost from the start. But, she had been young and naive and told herself that the fear made it more exciting. In the end, she was only fooling herself.

It had been a flimsy excuse designed to justify her weakness in accepting Rene's behavior. Now, she knew better. It was because she would always be safe in Jack Robinson's able hands, that Phryne could let herself go completely. Let down her guard. Finally, finally relinquish control. She was free to express herself however she pleased. To melt and keen and even beg. Which, she reminded herself, was how she got into this unusual position in the first place.

Jack stood back to admire his work. Even in the darkness of the room, her alabaster skin seemed to glow. He took in the roundness of her shoulders, the fine bones of her back standing out in formation as her spine sloped gracefully over her curled legs, the perfect globe of her arse, pitched and hovering in midair. It had become increasingly difficult for him to ignore his own needs up to this point and the view was doing nothing to help him but, he couldn't tear his eyes away. From her vantage point, Phryne couldn't see where Jack had gone. Suddenly feeling very vulnerable, she softly spoke his name. 

The pronunciation of those four letters was a sound he had heard his whole life. But, when it fell from her lips like that, something inside him turned to plasm. Had done, since the very first time she had uttered it all those long months ago. 

She felt him climb onto the bed beside her and couldn't help but notice that he had, at long last, ditched his cotton pajama bottoms. He knelt over her and planted warm, wet kisses down her back, his hands trailing heat down her hips, his arousal hard against the soft flesh of her side. But, that particular need would wait. It was no sacrifice on his part - the better portion of his own pleasure was deeply rooted in pleasuring her. His mouth followed the curves down until he could go no further.

Gently, he nudged her upward and positioned his head under her hips. Jack's soft hair brushed against the inside of her leg and she moaned in pure anticipation. When he finally put his mouth to her, they both cried out. She was wet beyond anything he had ever experienced and he lapped, quenching his parching thirst for her. Phryne keened above him, realizing that her repose was a bit of a cruel trick. Though his hands helped to support her and keep her close, without any firmness at her back, she was free of him if she squirmed too much. In order to have the greatest pleasure, she would have to keep her hips very still. Surrender the pace to him. Trust him to give her what she needed. She dug her fists into the sheets and cried as he parted her swollen folds with his tongue and kissed her sex, diving in deeply, relentlessly until she could not stop quivering.

She cursed and begged but, he would not be put off. Jack was determined to take his communion with her divine flesh. Completely ensconced by her body, all his senses were Phryne. The smell of her, the taste of her, the feel of her flesh - soft and trembling. His eyes could see only her alabaster form in the darkness and her cries filled his ears.

Eventually moved by her pleas, he directed his attention to the small bundle of nerves that hovered just above him. He arched his head backward and caught the node sharply with the tip of his outstretched tongue before gently sucking on it and easing into the rhythm he knew she loved best.

It wasn't long before her muscles turned stiff with coiled tension and he could feel her holding her breath for long moments at a time. He fought hard to keep his mouth from breaking contact with her, his other arm wound between her legs to grasp her bottom for leverage. When he felt her on the precipice, he plunged two fingers inside her and curled them to press hard on the place that would drive her over the edge.

She came violently, almost painfully, as the wave throttled her body before ebbing into delicious vibrations that rippled from her centre in rings. Jack remained where he was, his mouth warm and gentle on her, sucking and stroking to prolong her orgasm.

When she finally calmed, she reached a shaky hand beneath her, gently stroking his hair and tugging him upward. Words would not yet form in her mouth, but he understood. He, too, was longing for the warmth of her embrace. Grabbing up his pajamas, he wiped his face before laying beside her.

They turned on to their sides to face each other and he pulled her into his arms, kissing her gently before slowly and thoroughly mapping her mouth. His own needs were growing more urgent by the second and when she released his lower lip from her teeth, he choked her name.

It may have been the most erotic sound she had ever heard, his voice was barely a whisper, deep and gravelly with passion. He drew it out, making two syllables last a seeming eternity. _Ph-ry-ne._

She curled her leg over his hip and slowly guided him into her - all the while, regarding his face intently, waiting for the reaction that always caused her heart to melt. Jack's eyelids fluttered closed and his features grew soft, a ghost of a smile playing on his lips while the lines on his forehead smoothed. Entering her was bliss. His old wounds, the days' frustrations, all forgotten in that moment.

After savoring it for as long as her body could stand, she pressed her lips to his and struck up a languorous rhythm, feeling his hand nest into her hair, keeping her close. They rocked together, humming in delight as the riptide pulled at their bodies. Phryne had already had a taste of release so, Jack felt no guilt in drawing out his own. The sensation was exquisite, the delicious ache cresting and retreating with every thrust, the tension building deeper all the while. Finally, she pressed her forehead to his, unable to kiss him for the raggedness of her breath, and he gently rolled her onto her back and picked up the pace.

She arched below him, a steady chorus of moans coming swiftly from her throat. Her fingertips dug into his chest and he knew he would be marked where her nails bit his skin - and he reached between them to bring her along - as the thought smothered him in whiteout.

Lights continued to dance in front of his eyes when Jack came to. He was heaped over Phryne's body, not knowing how long he had been there. His voice was thick as he sheepishly mumbled apology and moved to shift his heavy body off her. But, she pulled him back down, laughing and kissing him soundly. He bolstered his weight on his knees, instead, and settled his head in the crook of her neck.

She ran her hands over his back, the terrain so familiar to her fingers, and lingered on every ridge, every scar. Phryne was unusually quiet. Normally, she loved her pillow talk but, something was nagging at her conscience. She was not big on apologies, believing that actions spoke louder than words in most cases. The only other time she had apologized to him sincerely was when she had nearly gotten him fired - and even then, Jack made it clear that he would rather she not. She considered her words very carefully. 

"I shouldn't have behaved so childishly." Her voice, deeper than usual.  
Golden lashes tickled her skin as his eyes opened at this revelation. "Are you actually apologizing for what just happened?"  
She thought she could feel his mouth curl in skepticism as he spoke and knew he would challenge her sincerity if she put it that way. "No."  
"Good. I wouldn't know what to think."  
"Hmph. I'm merely expressing that I should have gone about it a bit differently," she posited.  
He said nothing to this.  
Her hand found his face and stroked his cheek lovingly before continuing in a much more somber tone, "I know how hard you've been working. I would never want to diminish that, Jack." Her hand stilled as she felt Jack's jaw stiffen beneath her fingers.

He could hardly believe his ears. The truth was, he had forgotten to even be mad at her. The skeptical part of his brain warned him that this might be a post-coital dream. But, her touch and breath on his skin told him that she was very, very real. His jaw clenched in an attempt to hold back the emotion that threatened to overtake him and swallowed the lump that was growing his throat. He knew she cared. Of course, she cared. But this. Well, this was unexpected. He had no words so, he did the only thing he could. 

Jack took Phryne's face in his hands and held it as if it was a fragile and precious gift before kissing her tenderly. "Thank you," he finally whispered and she released the breath she had been holding.

Things set to right, she playfully pushed him off her so she could be the one to pillow herself on the other. He dragged the coverlet over them both and sighed happily, still dog tired but, feeling suddenly optimistic. Her fingers skated a lazy path across his stomach and along his chest, through the pale hairs, making his skin shiver. He squeezed her tight and placed a kiss to the top of her head.

She didn't have to pretend anymore. There was no reason to feign invincibility, adapt righteous indignation or play the ever-bright, social butterfly. Jack saw all of her - her best, her worst, everything in between - and accepted her. Loved her. In spite of? No. Because of it.

Relaxed and happy, they both fell into a deep sleep. The morning light would be beckoning soon enough and, along with it, the chance to begin again.

**Author's Note:**

> Title and quote are from Shakespeare's "The Merchant of Venice," when Portia, in disguised as a lawyer asks Shylock to have mercy (on Antonio). The longer quote itself (and Portia's speech) means that the act of showing mercy (or kindness - however you look at it) should spring spontaneously from the heart.
> 
> In other news: I swear, I'm going to get back to my bigger fic, A Man In Need but, I'm suffering through a bit of writer's block and a demanding workload at the moment. Please bear with me! Thanks as always for all the support!


End file.
